


Same Page

by cuethe_pulse



Category: Gravitation
Genre: M/M, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-29
Updated: 2013-07-29
Packaged: 2017-12-21 17:00:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,634
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/902703
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cuethe_pulse/pseuds/cuethe_pulse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the early days of their relationship, neither one really knows what to make of the other. (Anime!verse)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Same Page

_“What I don’t understand is you. What is it that you want me to do?”_

Shuichi woke up in a bed, though he was fairly certain he’d fallen asleep—well, more like passed out—on the floor. He was naked and alone, and he supposed that should’ve made him feel a little sad or offended or used; but all that was outweighed by the thought that a) he’d spent the night being thoroughly fucked by a beautiful man in the soft glow of the moonlight streaming in through his bedroom windows, and b) after being thoroughly fucked and falling asleep—passing out, let’s be honest—said beautiful man had _tucked him gently into bed_. (Well, all right, he didn’t know that he’d done it _gently_ , exactly. But c’mon, no one tucked people _roughly_ into bed, did they?)

His clothes were folded and stacked on top of Eiri’s dresser. He dressed slowly, feeling a soreness he hadn’t known was there once he started moving. But if that was a hot-gay-sex thing, he supposed he would have to get used to it. Following the sound of rapid typing, he found Eiri in his smoke-filled study. He looked tired and Shuichi wondered if he’d slept at all.

“Uh, morning,” he said, and then thought that sounded lame. So he said, “Thanks for not leaving me on the floor,” which he didn’t really think was any better. Eiri didn’t say anything; he didn’t even look up from his laptop screen. Shuichi worried his bottom lip between his teeth, growing nervous. “I should go. Probably. I mean, you’ve got to work—and I’ve got to work, I guess, so— _but I can come back later_ , if that’s—”

“Stop talking.” Shuichi obeyed, watching as Eiri stood and walked over to him. “Virgins,” the writer sighed in what was mostly exasperation.

“ _Hey_ —” Slender fingers slid into his hair and Shuichi promptly swallowed any indignant protests.

Eiri leaned down and kissed him, briefly, softly, nothing more than a teasing brush of his lips. Shuichi followed him when he pulled away and Eiri smirked at him, not completely unkindly.

“Scram, brat.”

* * *

The second time they had sex, Eiri left him on the couch afterward.

* * *

“Let’s go out.”

“I don’t go out with boys. How do you keep getting in here?”

“We should go to dinner.”

“ _You_ go to dinner and pretend that I’m there. Seriously, was my door unlocked?”

“You know, Yuki, you can be a lousy boyfriend.”

“Then it’s a good thing I’m not your boyfriend.”

* * *

The third time they had sex, Shuichi discovered the writer’s weak spot.

He was pressed desperately against the older man’s body, as if the warm contact made up for the pain he still wasn’t used to. (And, well, maybe it did.) He gripped wrinkled bed sheets as Eiri spread his legs farther apart, turning his head slightly so his panting breath reached the shell of Eiri’s ear. Eiri’s rhythm faltered only a little, only for a second, and if Shuichi wasn’t so completely ~~obsessed~~ captivated by the man, he wouldn’t have noticed it. He pressed closer, curious, and Eiri moved his head away.

 _Aha_.

Shuichi slid his hands into Eiri’s hair, casually, like he totally planned on doing that, anyway. And then he gripped, held his head still as he caught Eiri’s lobe between his teeth.

“ _Stop._ ”

A purposefully hard thrust made Shuichi whimper, but he held on. He bit down harder at the sensitive skin, let his tongue slip in, moaned fetchingly. He committed Eiri’s reaction to memory. The way he squeezed his eyes shut and clenched his jaw, the way his hips bucked into him without restraint.

It hurt like hell, but it was so worth it.

* * *

 “How the hell did you find me here?”

Grinning triumphantly, Shuichi wriggled in time with the loud club music in a manner he hoped was enticing. “Sniffed you out. I’m like a bloodhound.”

“I hate dogs.” Eiri brought a glass of amber liquid to his lips and swallowed a mouthful. “You know I came here to get away from you.”

“Well…yeah.” Shuichi deflated a little. “But I didn’t think you’d actually say it.”

Eiri eyed him with faint amusement. “So you’re here to change my mind, hm?” He shook his head, emptied his glass. “Listen, brat,” he said, and Shuichi knew that nothing good could follow those words, so he tried very hard not to blush when Eiri cupped his chin his hand. “You’re cute. But tonight, I’m fucking a woman.”

Shuichi only entertained the thought of finding someone else for a minute or two before going home to Hiro’s, where he cried into the couch cushions and realized he was falling in love.

* * *

“Yuki?” Arms wound around Eiri’s waist, Shuichi pressed his face into the writer’s chest. “Will you stay?”

“I have work to do.”

“Bring your laptop to bed,” Shuichi said, shivering as a finger trailed down his spine, “and work from here.”

“I work better in my study. And you have a couch waiting for you.” Shuichi whined wordlessly and tightened his grip. “Stop that.”

“Please, Yuki,” he whispered. “Just this once…”

“What’s your problem tonight?”

“Nothing.” _Just that I love you and you could probably care less._

Shuichi’s lips trembled against Eiri’s skin, but he felt a bit of comfort when the writer’s fingers sifted into his hair.

“One night, if it’ll keep you from crying on me.”

* * *

 The next day, Shuichi moved in.

“But you’re _still_ sleeping on the couch.”

* * *

“Quit moving.”

“It _hurts_.”

Eiri rolled his eyes and placed a band-aid on Shuichi’s cut finger. “Don’t be such a child.”

“But there was _blood_.”

“What’d you expect, fool? Ink?”

Shuichi didn’t stick his tongue out, even though he really wanted to; he was not a child. “I wanted to make dinner for you.”

“I know. But—”

“It’s the thought that counts?”

“—you’re not very bright, so you should probably stick to take-out.”

“…”

“Put your tongue back in your mouth.”

* * *

“Yuki, can I ask you something?”

“No. I’m sleeping.”

“How many other people are you sleeping with?”

“I’m _fucking_ other people. I’m _sleeping_ with you.”

“Aw, Yuki, that’s so—but that doesn’t answer my question!”

“The sleep fairy is here. Hush now.”

“Bastard.”

* * *

Shuichi sat himself on Eiri’s lap, a little amazed that the writer stopped typing to hold his hips, and kissed him. The chair rolled back from the desk and Eiri bit at his lip, made him open his mouth so his tongue could slip inside. Shuichi draped his arms over Eiri’s shoulders, smiling as Eiri’s hand slid slowly up his shirt.

There were no ulterior motives behind the kiss. Shuichi had to be at work soon, and Eiri had a strict no-disturbing-my-writing-for-sex policy (like Shuichi had a problem controlling his libido or something). It was just a long, leisurely kiss. Shuichi imagined that Eiri was the kind of guy who didn’t see the point in things like this—a kiss that led nowhere. But here he was, indulging him without protest. _Enjoying himself_ , even. Shuichi pulled away with a grin, heart fluttering.

Eiri leaned back in the chair and said, “You used my toothpaste.”

“Do you mind?”

Eiri looked at him with eyes that weren’t entirely soft, but weren’t entirely hard either, and ran his thumb lightly over Shuichi’s bottom lip. “No. Not really.”

It was a good morning.

* * *

That night, Eiri kept his study door locked and only came out once, to snap at Shuichi that the TV was too loud.

* * *

“You should brighten this place up. Get some flowers or something.”

Eiri tugged on his hair in a way Shuichi liked to think was affectionate. “You’re bright enough.”

* * *

Shuichi stopped counting the number of times they had sex.

He bit into a pillow as Eiri filled him slowly, thoroughly. He wasn’t in pain—it stopped hurting around the time he stopped counting—but he was crying. He was thinking about the other people Eiri fucked, about the inevitable day Eiri would kick him out, the day all of this would end. He was thinking that this love thing sucked.

Eiri pulled out abruptly, making him gasp, and turned him over. His wide eyes looked up into Eiri’s narrowed stare, his tear-streaked cheeks burning faintly with embarrassment.

“Sorry, Yuki, I just—”

“Quiet.” Eiri held his legs open and thrust in again. “I don’t want to know what’s wrong,” he said, leaning down, words spoken against Shuichi’s lips. “I just want you to stop crying.”

And then he kissed him, which Shuichi was beginning to realize was his default response to almost everything. And maybe that meant that, despite all the books he’d written and the women he’d fucked, Eiri was kinda clueless. And that gave him some sort of hope.

_“I love you.”_

He said it without realizing, while he was in a haze of orgasm-induced bliss. Eiri didn’t say it back. He didn’t say anything, and he didn’t stay with him that night. But he didn’t make him sleep on the couch.

* * *

_“I’m saying that I’ll be your lover.”_

“Lover?” The word made Shuichi feel hot and cold all over. “You mean…there’ll be no one else?”

Eiri looked back at him, bathed in moonlight, and somehow Shuichi kept from swooning. “Isn’t that what you want?”

“Yes, of course!” He stood up from the couch, too quickly; the blanket fell to his ankles and he hastily pulled it back up before realizing it didn’t too much matter because Eiri had seen absolutely _everything_. “But—I thought you didn’t—” He sighed and despaired a little and Eiri just kept _looking_ at him. “I don’t understand you at all!”

Eiri seemed to smile, just slightly, but Shuichi couldn’t be sure. The moonlight and all.

“Then we’re both on the same page, at least,” he said, and kissed him.


End file.
